


Think Fast

by anthropophobist



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Fic, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, Five times Matt caught the thing, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Karen doesn't know about Daredevil, and one time he didn't, drunk avocados, foggy is so done w/ matt by now probably, post S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:12:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropophobist/pseuds/anthropophobist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Matt caught the thing, and one time he didn't.</p><p>“headcanon that foggy is always throwing things at matt’s head after he finds out (and matt always catches them), but once foggy throws a book at matt in the office and karen’s there so matt just lets the book hit him right in the face. foggy can’t stop laughing even when karen starts yelling at him”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. #1 - Blind Man's Catch

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a little short, perhaps. The next three will be longer, I promise.
> 
> Also thanks to the-high-school on Tumblr for blessing us with that fantastic headcanon <33

Karen wasn't at the office that day; She had stayed for much too long the night before, so Foggy had told her to sleep in, and Matt had been reading the file on their latest client on his braille display when Foggy had called his name. When Matt turned towards the sound, he could practically hear Foggy's grin as they formed around his next words;

"Think fast."

Matt knew. He knew exactly what was going to happen. Foggy had been juggling his softball like he does when he's thinking, and as soon as those words left his lips, he turned around and tossed the ball in an easy underhand throw right at Matt, whose eyebrows had furrowed momentarily before raising way above his glasses, but whose hand instinctively shot up to cup around the object and caught it perfectly.

A moment of impressed silence followed, in which Matt's hand was still raised and holding the ball, before Matt let out a surprised laugh. He tossed Foggy the ball back and got up, hooking his finger around the cord of his earbud to take it out. He was still laughing as Foggy stared at him, trying not to grin. Matt could hear him struggling to keep his breathing even, to cover up his laughter, and that only made Matt laugh harder.

"I'm so glad that worked." Foggy wheezed, and began laughing, too.

"I can't believe you just did that." Matt laughed. "Imagine if I hadn't caught that." A new fit of laughter bubbled up as the image of Matt getting hit in the face with a baseball filled their minds. Matt released a breath and leaned on his desk, feeling the glossy wood press into the back of his thighs. He motioned for Foggy to throw him the ball again, thereby beginning a lazy game of catch.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that, you know." Foggy said with a smile in his voice, and a little something distant. "Your Super-Senses. Capital S." He waved a finger at that, the movement making him rush to catch the ball hurled his way again. (Matt tossed it extra hard just to spite him.)

They threw the ball in silence for a little while. A minute or two passed before Foggy caught the ball and held it, instead of throwing it back. Matt's head raised as soon as he noticed Foggy wasn't planning on continuing their game of catch. He frowned a little and was about to ask, but Foggy's breathing changed and Matt shut his mouth.

"What can you tell right now? Like, what can you sense?" He asked tentatively. Matt took a moment to clarify.

"Like, about you, or just, in general?"

"In general." He rushed. "Just, what can you tell me?" Foggy sounded slightly nervous about asking the question, like he wasn't sure he should've asked. Matt didn't mind much, however. He simply tilted his head down and focused on his environment, let the sensory stimuli in until it almost felt overwhelming.

"Someone left a coffee cup unwashed in the sink, it's kind of distracting." Was the first thing he said. Foggy laughed softly.

"That was me." He admitted somewhat guiltily.

"I know, your breath still smells like it." Matt tilted his head, and listened for a moment. "There's a cat on one of the dumpsters in the alley. It's enjoying itself, probably sitting in the sun."

Foggy released a breath and asked, "How can you tell it's in the sun?"

"He's very relaxed, and the garbage smells pretty strong, the way it does when it's warm."

Foggy chuckled.

"It must really suck to smell garbage all the time."

"You have no idea." Matt mused. He focused on the people walking along the sidewalk again, but one heartbeat stood out, and the faint body odor was familiar. Karen was a few feet away from opening the front door.

"Oh, Karen's coming. She'll be here in a moment. Hold on, she's carrying something. Smells like..." Matt breathed a moment, then smiled. "She brought us lunch."

That pulled a laugh from Foggy. "Karen's the best thing to have happened to us." He and Matt grinned. "Come on, let's pretend we were working all this time, and not exploring your weird powers." 

Matt grinned. "Showtime's over. Let's get to work."

It was about half a minute later that Karen entered the office, announcing she brought lunch. Matt and Foggy thanked her profusely and acted as surprised as they could. And if Foggy bumped shoulders with Matt a few too many times that day it was just because Matt kept grinning in his direction, and only smiled wider when Foggy began muttering things under his breath so only they could hear. Karen didn't seem to catch on, but she looked at ease, smiling at their behaviour more than once.


	2. #2 - Bleeding Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were hoping for a happy fic, I'm sorry to say, there's two more angsty chapters coming. i'm sorry, these assholes just lend themselves to angst too well.

Matt listened to Foggy pacing his apartment, heard the heavy, tired beat of his shoes on the wooden floor and the similar beat of his heart. He was pretending to be asleep to avoid the conversation he knew was coming. He had gotten stabbed a number of times trying to take apart a new gang forming in Hell's Kitchen, and it was by pure luck that Foggy had knocked on his apartment door not two minutes after Matt had stumbled in through the roof access, saying something about their latest client's lease records while Matt was bleeding out on the floor, with only just enough strength left to call out to Foggy and tell him to phone Claire.

 

"Matt?" Foggy asked when he noticed Matt shift slightly to find a less painful position. "Matt. I know you're awake." He murmured. Matt took a moment to focus on Foggy. Everything about him felt tired and heavy, not at all like the last time he found Matt like this. His breathing was more sighs than real breaths, and Matt noted at the sound of Foggy's stomach and the sharp tang of ammonia in the air that he hadn't eaten since he got to Matt's apartment. The last thing he ate had been an orange, about five hours ago. The citrussy smell still clung to his fingers. He made a mental note to get Foggy to eat something soon.

"What is it?" Matt mumbled. Speaking hurt his chest, and he shifted again, ignoring the crackling of his ribs.

"You gotta ease up." Foggy admitted. He suddenly sounded very small, but no less determined. Matt turned his head to the sound of his sofa chair creaking, signaling his friend had sat down. That wasn't a good sign. He braced himself for what was coming.

"Foggy, I know you don't like what I do," Matt began, but Foggy cut him off.

"It's not about that, Matt. I can live with what you do in the mask. I understand that what you do is important, I've come to terms with all that." Foggy went silent for a short second.

"It's you, your safety. It's- Every time I know you're out, it's all I can do not to wait at your apartment until you're back, to make sure you're okay." Foggy paused a moment to compose himself, took a deep breath. "What if next time I'm not here to find you bleeding to death in your apartment?" The crack in Foggy's voice resonated deep within Matt's bones, who flinched at the words.

"This isn't the first time I found you like this, and if you don't ease up, it won't be the last. Matt-- I'm not sure if I can keep doing this. I want you to be safe."

"Foggy, I've already got better armor, I am safe like this." He countered. Foggy laughed humourlessly.

"Matt." Was all he said. There was no need to say more than that; Matt understood even without seeing Foggy's gaze run over the bandages on his abdomen.

After a pained sigh, Matt began to explain. "You heard about that new gang forming in Hell's Kitchen, right?" Foggy nodded. "Just a bunch of kids, trying to get my attention, trying to, to _lure_ me to them, 'cause they were sure they could take me on."

"And they almost could, look how close they got!"

" _They were just kids_ , Foggy. They weren't even close to big shots like Fisk, or, or Nobu. They got lucky, is all. The suit has great protection, it just depends on the angle."

"I trust you, Matt." Foggy sighed. "For some reason, after all this, you've still got my trust, but I'm having a hard time trusting you with your own safety. You have to be more careful. Please." He pleaded, sounding tired. "You can't rely on people to keep finding you when you're half-dead all the time."

"I know, I'll try." 

The air in the apartment was chilly on Matt's bare skin, and paired with the blood loss, it made him shiver. Foggy must have noticed, because the next thing he knew, a piece of soft fabric was flying his way. He put his hands in his lap- raising his arms would have tugged his stitches too much- and let the item drop onto them. He ran his fingers over it. A fleece-lined hoodie. With a soft 'Thanks, Foggy' and a small, painful noise, he pulled it on and zipped it up.

"Claire told me to keep you away from fights for a while, until your wounds heal enough. Think you can do that?" Foggy asked with a slightly incredulous tone. Matt just nodded silently.

"You should get back to the office." Matt said with a small hand wave. "See if you can find anything that'll help Miller confirm his story, I'll be back tomorrow, probably."

Foggy shook his head. "No, you need to rest. Two days at least. Claire's orders. I'll-" He hesitated, sighed. "I'll cover for you at the office. And keep your phone on you. If you tear through your stitches, I need you to be able to call Claire right away. No more dying, okay?"

Matt nodded and softly uttered a 'thank you', knowing how much Foggy hates lying. He tilted his head down, trying to locate his phone, but to no avail. "Where is it?"

"Uhh," Foggy's hair whipped around as he scanned the rooms for the phone. The tiny breeze from the movement hit Matt's face moments later. "Ah. It's on your bed. No, I'll get it." He said as soon as he saw Matt begin to get off the couch with a number of quiet, painful sounds.

Matt listened to Foggy's footsteps while he retrieved the small device, focusing on anything other than the stitches he could feel pulling at his skin whenever he shifted. He was never really bothered by the pain, but his heightened senses meant he was always hyper-aware of the sutures holding his skin together. The hoodie scraping along his abdomen didn't help, either.

"Here," Foggy leaned over and tucked the phone into Matt's hoodie pocket, before heading to the kitchen, grabbing Matt a bottle of water and a Vicodin. Matt was thankful for the gesture, even though he wasn't going to take the painkillers. He did take a gulp of the water right away. 

"I'll be headed to the office, then." Foggy said after a moment, and went to grab his coat. He seemed to linger at the door a moment too long after saying goodbye, as if wanting to say something else, but in the end, simply thumped his fist softly against the doorframe as a final note, and closed the door behind him with a click.

 

When Matt finished meditating, he ended up calling Claire. She sounded worried, but he reassured her that he was just calling to inform her he was okay, and wanted to ask if she could come over and keep him company.

 

He didn't mention the fact he _needed_ someone around, because he didn't entirely trust himself to keep himself safe, either.

 

Claire couldn't come. She had already used up all her sick days.

 

 

Matt understood.


	3. #3 - Guacamole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little too proud of myself for thinking of that title. Sue me.

Foggy struggled the entire time. He'd insist 'til his dying day that he did not let up. Not when they grabbed him while he was locking up the office, or when they threw him in the car, when they bound him in the dark warehouse and yelled in his face, when they began to deal punches in his stomach, mouth, and everywhere else. Not even when they broke out the stun gun. He never gave up struggling. He never gave up Matt.

He's going to kick his ass if he gets out of this, though.

 

\---

 

"Tell me his name!"

"Look, if I knew, I'd've told you by now!  _He never told me his name_!" Foggy yelled, panic surging through his body and pitching his voice when one of the men surrounding him surged forward with the stun gun. Foggy was a terrible liar, but it helped that the claim was part true. Daredevil never did tell him his name. He wasn't really Daredevil back when he did.

Foggy was in a load of shit. He was bound to a lawn chair, hands and feet immobile. It was way past midnight and Foggy had really been looking forward to getting a little sleep before he had to be back at the office early the next morning, but instead, two guys had grabbed him, and dragged him into the nearest alley- coincidentally, the same one he and Matt had told Karen about when she'd asked about Daredevil- where a car was waiting. They'd beat him up for good measure, and threw him into it. Foggy didn't really remember the details, he had taken a blow to the head and ended up in a daze for a few minutes. Unfortunately, within those few minutes, he'd already been bound and tossed into the car like a cheap purse. Now he was tied to a chair facing a possible death-slash-torture. Foggy's life is like a fucking TV show.

"I told you I'd tell you anything you want to know,  _provided_  I know the answer. I don't know the answer to that question, he never told me."

"You've been seen talking to him on multiple occasions. You're friendly with him."  His interrogator, standing easily in front of him, stated. Foggy laughed cynically, and somewhat nervously, watching how the man advanced at him in an almost predatory way. Foggy knew it was merely for intimidation, but it sure as hell  _worked_. His heart was pounding like mad. But the anger he was feeling, at the situation, at Matt, sure as hell helped him stay focused, kept him thinking straight. He'd always prided himself on his ability to work under stress.

"Think I'd be an asshole to that guy? He helped me and my partners take down Fisk. He's an asset to us."

Foggy watched the main guy nod to someone behind him, and heard some movement. Two small prods poked into his back, and Foggy's heart surged with panic before the device was even turned on. The electric shocks rippled through his entire body. His muscles contracted painfully, and the scream that followed was uncontrolled and raw. His hands yanked on the zip loc ties, pulling up instinctively. He could taste the blood blooming out from his tongue. He had bitten on it, hard.

"Tell us what you know about him. You do want to get out of here, no?"

Foggy panted, and ran his tongue over his teeth, checking for any damage. He leaned his head to the side so he could unattractively dribble the slimy blood that had been slowly filling his mouth onto the floor. He didn't answer, not exactly trusting his voice.

His interrogator leaned in close, but not quite close enough for Foggy to try anything. "Tell us what you know, and we'll let you go. You don't, we'll keep tasing you, until you're finally done with. And then?" He smiled. "I think we'll visit your office. Go see your business partners."

That got Foggy panicking. He couldn't let anything happen to his friends, he'd never forgive himself. He began to think. He wanted to get out of here, but he wasn't sure if Matt would show, or show in time, anyways; it was during the small hours of the night when he was locking up,  meaning it was far too late now for Matt to be out fighting crime. Therefore he needed to share something. A small detail that wouldn't get them any closer to Matt, but would satisfy them enough to let him go. But there was hardly anything he could say about Matt that wouldnt either be far too much or nearly anything at all. However, Foggy had an idea. He just hoped it wasn't too risky.

"He, uh, he had a pretty big legal vocabulary. We talked law a few times while me and my partners were working on trapping Fisk, he seems to know what he's talking about." Foggy stopped to take a breath. He was genuinely impressed with how steady his voice sounded. Granted, it was a little rough from the yelling and thrashing, a result from the many shocks he'd gotten. His heart was practically pounding out of his chest and his breaths were coming faster than he'd like, but still. He continued speaking, trying to get them to draw the wrong conclusion. "So either he went to university, or he's been in legal trouble often. My guess is on the latter."

The men around him perked up, began to murmur. His interrogator, however, didn't seem all too impressed. He only leaned in closer. Foggy tried to lean away from the uncomfortable warm breaths on his face. The man wasn't exactly a towering figure, per se. Strongly built, yes, but he wasn't much taller than Foggy himself. But he had a way of carrying himself that made him look far bigger and a whole lot more scary.

"Is that it? Are-"

He went down. Foggy gasped as the man collapsed suddenly, a  _whack_  echoing through the room, followed by a small rolling sound. Foggy stared down at the guy, who was now unconscious on the floor, bleeding slowly from a head wound.   
A red baton lay next to his head.

 

Matt was here.

 

Foggy only had about a second to think before he was forced to the ground with a kick right in the middle of his chest. He fell back with the chair, but twisted instinctively. Unfortunately, the action turned the chair and had his shoulder slamming into the dusty concrete floor at a painful angle from his hands being bound tightly behind his back. His arm got caught underneath the backrest of the chair, which sent a jolt of electric pain running down into his hand. He yelled out, but was nothing compared to the noise the other men in the room were making. Foggy could only make out snippets of what they were saying.

 

"Careful! We were told to keep him alive!"

 

"Don't let him get away!"

 

"Check the rooms, find the motherfucker!"

 

The lights had shut off only seconds after the first hit, and Foggy could hardly see a thing, the only source of light the faint streams getting past the trash bags taped over the windows. There was a guy half on top of him, who had thankfully pulled the chair away from Foggy's bindings, so he could hold him down. He was scared, clearly not trained for this. Foggy could feel his pulse racing, breaths coming fast. He wasn't faring much better himself, but it helped to know Matt was there to get him out. 

After about half a minute of chaos, the guards in the room had once again composed themselves, the room silent again save for nervous breathing and a few whispered commands. Everyone was on edge and ready to attack. The air was tense.

But for all their wariness, none of the guards were prepared when Matt came up behind them, quickly incapacitating them. The other men would turn when they heard another hit land, but the Devil had already receded back into the dark corners of the room by that time.

Foggy wondered how he knew. Where to go, where the shadows lay. Could he sense the heat? His thoughts were disrupted by the sounds of struggle elevating. But not because Matt was taking everyone out. Instead, because he had been spotted, and was now getting overpowered; everyone was coming at him at once. Even the guy on top of Foggy was crawling off and running to the scene. Foggy could only just see Matt's dark red silhouette fending off punches everywhere, having to defend himself with just his hands, seeing as his batons were scattered around the room, too far for him to backflip his way to them.

But Foggy could reach the one still laying next to his interrogator, who had remained unconscious throughout the fight. In the scurry, Foggy had been able to get his hands from behind his back with noticeable protest from his hurt shoulder. With no one paying attention to him anymore, he crawled over with his limbs still bound. His knees dragged over the floor and grazed his pants, but that was the least of his worries. He strained to look at Matt.

Matt wasn't faltering, but it was clear he wouldn't last. Foggy's hand closed around the object, and he pushed himself back.

Foggy considered his decision. Matt would sense the baton coming, no doubt, but he was right in the middle of the fight, if one of his opponents caught it before he could get to it, it might not end well. He would need to know Foggy had it.

"Daredevil!" Foggy yelled, and tapped the stick to the ground twice. It felt a little ridiculous, like trying to get a dog's attention, but nonetheless, it worked. Matt seemed to get the hint, and forced his way out of the fight, knocking one of his opponents out in the process. He threw his limp body in front of another guy's feet, making him stumble. Foggy waved the baton, then threw it right at Matt, who caught it easily and immediately swung his outstretched arm back and hit one of the guards straight in the temple. He kicked him back and ducked to avoid a swing coming his way from the left. He jabbed the stick into the man's thigh while he was down, and as he came up, whacked him in the chin with it, and pushed his falling body out the way. Matt dropped and sweeped his leg over the floor to trip the guy advancing him from the other side.

Foggy watched in amazement as Matt regained the upper hand, becoming nothing short of brutally efficient, practically a blur in the dim light of the room. Meanwhile, Foggy worked on getting his feet unbound. He looked up to see Matt only had two opponents left, and Foggy didn't need to see to understand they didn't stand a chance.

Just as Foggy was done untying himself, the last guy was dropped at his feet. He was still conscious, and coughing. He had a nasty looking bruise forming on the left side of his face, and he was clutching his stomach. Matt came up to him and hauled him up by the collar so they were face-to-face. Voice gravelly from exhaustion, he growled at him,

"I never went to university."

And knocked him out.

Quickly, he took off his helmet and came over to Foggy to help him up and untie his hands, seemingly scanning him for injuries. Foggy bristled.

"Put that back on, man! What if they see?" He hissed, pushing at the helmet in Matt's hands once his own here free. Matt didn't move.

"They're all out," he simply stated. "Don't really like it, blocks my hearing too much."

Foggy sighed but decided to drop it. He'd ask later. Right now he just wanted to get out of here and get cleaned up so he could  _sleep_.

"Foggy." Matt paused a moment too long, unsure. "Are you okay?"

Biting back a smart comment, Foggy shrugged. The pain that shot through his shoulders was enough of an answer for him. "I just want to get out of here," he said, voice only a little strangled.

Matt acknowledged his remark with a dip of his head. His hair was ruffled by the mask, sticking up everywhere. "I'll lead you out. Head to my apartment, I'll meet you there."

Foggy's pulse spiked. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" He was scared to be on the streets at night while he was beaten up and alone, what if they grab him again? But not just that. What did Matt mean, he'd 'catch up'? What was he was going to do. Was he staying here to finish up?

"I'll be following you up on the rooftops, I didn't exactly bring a change of clothes. If anyone tries anything, I'll deal with it."

Foggy nodded, relieved. "Alright."

"Follow me," Matt said, and jerked his head to the door on the other side of the room. Foggy could see the sliver of light coming through the space underneath it. Matt walked in a slow pace, to make sure Foggy could follow, and put his helmet back on as they passed through the doorway.

As soon as the main exit doors opened, the pale sunlight from outside made Foggy's pupils contract almost painfully, his banged up head throbbing in protest. It startled him; logically he should've known the sun was coming up, considering he was grabbed late at night after finishing up a late session to sort some stuff out for a particularly difficult client. On top of that, he was out for a while while they tied him up, he was certain of that. He couldn't recall much of the way there. They might even have chloroformed him. He honestly hadn't a clue. He went to grab his phone to check the time. 

Of course.

They'd taken it.

Foggy tilted his head back as far as it would go without hurting, and heaved a sigh that also hurt. Matt seemed to catch on.

"Don't worry, I grabbed your stuff."

Foggy nodded, not quite ready to stop being pissed at Matt. He suspected his anger would only get worse the longer he went without a shower and some shut-eye. "I'll see you soon, I guess."

Matt uttered a small 'yeah' and took a moment to compose himself. Then he turned and did a wall run to get up to the ledge running along the first floor of the building. He hauled himself up, and ran along it to the corner, where he disappeared from Foggy's sight.

Foggy breathed as deeply as he could, turned and headed on his painful way to Matt's place.


	4. #4 - Sutures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the late update! School's been keeping me busy, and I didn't really have the time or energy to write lately. I'm really sorry. I promise to try and get the next two chapters up sooner!
> 
> And also, if you don't mind, go check out the previous chapter real quick, I re-wrote it a little 'cause it didn't quite sit right with me before. You don't have to, considering the plot hasn't really changed, just a few details, mostly pertaining to the interrogation before Matt came into the picture, but this chapter does contain references to things that didn't happen in the first version of chapter 3.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Foggy was thankful for the early morning light as he dragged himself to Matt's place. It made him feel a little safer, even though there were very few people around at the time. The upside to that was that while he earned himself multiple worried looks from passerby's, no one stopped to ask him if he was okay. Everyone out on the streets at a time as early as 5am was bound to be in a hurry. It made it a lot easier to get to where he needed to be. His muscles ached from the trashing and the beatings and his nose and forehead were throbbing in a very distracting way, but even through the fuzzy-headedness and pain, Foggy made it to Matt's apartment building without further struggle.

Matt had left the roof access open, so Foggy could get in without kicking down any doors. To be fair, he wasn't sure he was capable of doing that even without being beaten to a pulp. Matt must've been following him closely, because it was only half a minute later that he came in, immediately taking off his helmet and lobbing it from the stairs to the couch a good few feet away. Foggy watched as it bounced on the cushions but didn't fall. Showoff.

"Sit down, Fog," He instructed, motioning at the chairs at his small kitchen table. "I'll patch you up."

Foggy sighed, and dropped himself heavily into one of the chairs, wincing.

"Can't you call Claire? Or I don't know, a  _hospital_?" He asked, hearing his own anger and exhaustion clearly reflected in his voice. Matt shrugged, shook his head.

"She deserves a break. Besides, I can do this myself. I mean- If you really want to, we can go to the hospital, but we'd be done quicker this way, and you'd get no awkward questions." He waited. "It's up to you."

Foggy nodded gravely. "Fine, Let's just get this over with so I can sleep," He said in a long exhale.

Matt nodded and headed over to one of his cabinets, procuring from it the same medical kit Foggy watched Claire use when he first found Matt bleeding half to death. He regarded Matt, still in the suit, setting down the med kit. It was always strange to see Matt in the suit while he did everyday things. Foggy had seen and talked to Matt right when he was about to go out in the mask, and seeing him calmly have a glass of water while fully suited up felt strange, like he was no longer supposed to do regular "human" things while he was Daredevil.

Foggy himself was still dressed in his office clothes, dusty as hell, and his dark grey trousers had gone entirely to shit; the knees were scraped up, and streaks and drops of blood coated the thighs, from where his nose and mouth had bled because of the hits they'd taken and from the number of times he'd impulsively bit his tongue while the shocks rippled through him.

Matt opened up the kit and pulled up a chair to sit across from Foggy. Even though his eyes never quite met the other man's, they conveyed more guilt and worry than Foggy thought possible. Matt blinked, jutted his chin up a little.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this," he said quietly, taking a piece of gauze and a 100ml bottle of alcoholic disinfectant. "I'm," he tried to think of something more to say; the apology felt blank to both of them. He gave up with a sigh "I'm sorry." Foggy nodded weakly. 

"Yeah." He agreed. He wasn't going to say it's okay. It wasn't.

Matt looked like he wanted to say something while he took off his gloves and began carefully cleaning the shallow gash in Foggy's hairline, preceding the action with a warning of how it was going to hurt. Foggy hadn't even realised the gash was there in the midst of everything, but now that the adrenaline had subsided, he could damn well  _feel_  it. The exhaustion and the pain got him pretty pissed, and while, objectively, he knew that staying angry at Matt wasn't going to do either of them any good, the emotional part of him always got the better of him when he got as tired as he was.

Foggy winced at the sting of the alcohol, but held still. Matt's fingers pressed the gauze into the cut as delicately as they could, and really, compared to the tazing Foggy had endured, it was hardly more than an unpleasant sting.

Matt's eyes had fallen into ether space around Foggy's ear as he was tending to the blond's injuries, but with a small breath, he directed them at Foggy's with an intent and earnest gaze.

"You've got every right to be angry, Foggy." He said, and pulled his hands away from Foggy's temple to reach into the kit.

Foggy was about to nod, but Matt pressed a butterfly bandage over the newly cleaned gash, so he simply made a short, acknowledging noise. Besides, noddding would only jostle his banged up head and make the aching return. He probably had a concussion.

"This is why I kept it a secret, so I wouldn't risk getting you hurt." Matt admitted, quietly this time.

Foggy sighed. He wasn't sure if that was even directed at him, and he sure as hell didn't feel it was his job to comfort  _Matt_ in this situation, yet here he was.

"Matt, the only reason they took me was because they saw me talking to  _Daredevil._ Even if you'd kept it a secret, they still would've come after me."

"You don't know that." Matt said quietly, and went silent. Foggy sighed, and sat back a bit as he watched Matt twitch a little, as if pulling himself out of a daze, then get up to grab a damp washcloth, grabbing the disinfectant to mix with the water, so Foggy could wipe down his face a little. It'd be good to be able to clean the grimy blood off his face.

Matt had gone to grab him a bottle of water and a Vicodin, in an almost exact role reversal of a few weeks back, when Matt had gotten stabbed. He set the items down on the kitchen table, and waited for Foggy to finish with the washcloth.

"You'll have to rest your arm and shoulder for a while. Nothing's too badly damaged but it'll be extra sore in the next few days. Same goes for your ribs." He said, mostly just in an attempt to break the silence. Foggy nodded, and handed back the cloth. It was nice to be able to move his face without feeling the dried blood pull at his skin.

When Matt returned to sit in front of him again, something seemed to grab his attention. His eyes suddenly dropped to around Foggy's shoulder, and he tentatively hovered a hand over Foggy's chest. Right over the sore patch of skin where he was kicked.

"You're gonna bruise pretty bad on your sternum." He stated after feeling the air over Foggy's dirty shirt for a few moments. "I can feel the heat even through your clothes."

Foggy shifted, but said nothing. It still made him a little uncomfortable when Matt used his super senses on him.

Matt moved his hand around over Foggy's sternum. Feeling for the edges of the bruise, Foggy guessed. He watched as Matt's expression turned genuinely upset when he realised what had caused it.

"Foggy. I can feel the imprints of the sole." His voice sounded too calm. It seemed the realisation only kicked in a moment later, when guilt and a tinge of horror found its way into his tone, giving his voice a slightly more frantic sound. "They kicked you so hard not even the  _pattern_  of the boot's faded."

Foggy would've laughed if it wouldn't hurt so much. "You're telling me." He muttered instead.

Matt pressed his lips tight in a wordless apology, his eyebrows furrowed deep. "I still have to clean up that graze on your cheekbone," he said after a moment of silence. Foggy halfheartedly waved his still operational arm, an exhausted  _go ahead_ signal. But Matt didn't move to grab anything. Instead, he nodded his head at Foggy. "Could you..." He trailed off. "The, um, disinfectant."

Matt had set the small bottle down on the kitchen counter while he was getting the washcloth, and it was now out of reach for him. But Foggy could still reach it if he stretched a little.

Foggy sighed. He had learned by now that turning his body wasn't that great an option, his ribs would scream at him if he did. So he simply reached his left arm back and relied instead of his vision, on Matt's clumsy instructions.

"It's to your left. No, a little- that's your right. No, there, yeah." Matt expectantly held his palm up and waited for Foggy to hand over the bottle.

Foggy pulled his arm back with thankfully only a small tug of pain. But for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, the way Matt had given those instructions seemed to spark anger inside his chest. It pooled down into his arms, and he felt it rise. He saw the exact moment Matt noticed something was up. His hand dropped a little and he tried to pull back, as if saying _'nevermind',_ but Foggy was very much prepared to give Matt the bottle, thank you. Just not as gently as Matt had wanted. So with an emotional sigh, he threw the bottle at him. Not too hard, just hard enough to get the message across.

It was irrational, he knew. Childish, even. But he was tired and upset and  _hurting_ and he couldn't quite deal with Matt right now.

Matt saw- sensed, whatever- the object coming at his face, and thankfully didn't make a show of pulling it from it's trajectory right before it reached his face. He simply looked apologetic as he unscrewed the plastic cap and applied a few drops onto the gauze pinched between his fingers. Foggy hardly even winced while Matt cleaned out the dust and dirt from the shallow graze with small, downwards strokes.

"You can take the bed if you want," Matt offered after a moment. His eyes rested a little above Foggy's shoulder, and he flipped over the gauze to the clean side. "Might not be a good idea for you to go out to your own place right now"

Foggy didn't want to, really, but Matt was right. Besides, he probably wouldn't make it far without passing out from exhaustion and injury. So he sighed and agreed with a "yeah, okay," that sounded just a little insincere. Matt nodded, and put away the dirtied gauze. He began putting everything back into the kit again and making a small pile of all the discarded and used material, signalling they were finally done.

"I'll call Karen in the morning. Don't worry about sleeping in." Matt said, and got up to put away the kit. Foggy readjusted his position on the chair.

"What're you gonna tell her?"

Matt breathed, considered it a moment. "The truth," he said. "She knows you've talked to Daredevil before. I'll tell her he came to rescue you after you got kidnapped, and walked you to my place so you could get patched up."

Foggy heaved another sigh, followed directly by a yawn. It wasn't the whole truth, but at least it wasn't a lie. It was a start.

"Alright."

"Let me grab some blankets, and you can get some sleep. I'll leave a few painkillers on the bedside table for you."

 

Foggy slept like the dead.


	5. #5 - Miller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've returned to happy things! This chapter was a joy to write, I hope you enjoy!

"To yet another successful trial!" Foggy exclaimed loudly, grinning broadly as he, Karen, and Matt clinked glasses. The three simultaneously threw back half their drinks.

 

A month ago, they'd been asked to defend Gerard Miller, a particular individual with an unfortunate criminal record that gave the police a good reason to suspect him of a revenge murder. Miller was innocent, Matt had made sure of it, but the evidence was clearly against the poor man. Thankfully, Foggy and Matt had, in their words,  _kicked ass_ in the courtroom, and Foggy's closing argument was one of his best yet, he thought. Now Miller was reunited with his daughter and eternally grateful for it.

 

"Foggy, you've been saying that with every single drink we've had. Literally the exact same thing." Karen declared with a hand in front of her mouth as she swallowed down the mediocre drink. She was smiling.

"Can't a man be happy?" Foggy threw out his arms, and Matt dodged a hand going for his face. "I mean, let's do a headcount here; I no longer look like I got stuck in a blender, Matt hasn't fallen down and broken his face in weeks," A pointed glare at his friend, "And let's keep it that way,  _Matt,_ " Foggy ordered. Matt shrugged innocently. "And Miller, the conflicted soul, has finally been able to  _prove_  his innocence! With our wonderful help, of course."

Foggy leaned towards Karen. "It was a hard case. All the evidence was pointing to him." He shot her a mockingly accusing glare. "Which you would've known if you stayed at the office through Matt and I's late-night research sessions."

Karen set her glass down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing. "You're the one who keeps sending me home, Foggy!" She shot back, without venom. Foggy played along with the playful argument, and motioned with his hands.

"You could've refused."

Karen chuckled. "I think you would've physically dragged me home if I did." She said under her breath, and held eye contact with Foggy while she took another sip from her glass.

"She's got a point." Matt chimed in.

Karen laughed out a " _thank you_ , Matt!" At the same time as Foggy faked offense, throwing his arms out with a look of outrage on his face.

"Come on, Matt! You're supposed to be backing me!"

Matt simply grinned and nipped his drink. "I'm backing the truth, Foggy. Like a good lawyer should. You would've dragged her home and you know it."

Foggy looked between the two, then hung his head, defeated. "You're right, I would've." He sighed. "Another round?"

"Actually," Karen began, fidgeting, "I was gonna head home soon."

Both men made disappointed noises, but neither was going to force her to stay. They would never. Foggy threw back the rest of the liquor and pushed his empty tumbler a little further away on the wobbly table. He sighed, sounding content.

"Think I'll head back soon, too, then. Matt, you coming?"

Matt shrugged, flashed a charming, slightly crooked smile. "Sure," he said. "Why not."

"Awesome." Foggy smiled back, and signalled Josie, letting her know they were ready to pay. Karen insisted on splitting the costs. She and Foggy simultaneously reached behind them to grab their coats off the backrests of their chairs. It wasn't a practiced move, just a well timed one.

The three of them said goodbye on the sidewalk while Karen hailed a cab. Foggy and Matt decided to walk; Foggy's place wasn't far, and they weren't  _that_ drunk.

The way home was an experience; Foggy stumbled every few minutes, completely relying on Matt to steady him when he did, all the while talking loudly at his slightly less drunk friend about whatever came to mind. Matt didn't really listen, mostly just laughed at Foggy's balance problems and nodded convincingly when Foggy began talking about seafood with absolutely no lead-up whatsoever. But the mood was light, and they both needed it after the rough weeks of sifting through evidence.

When the pair arrived at Foggy's front door, the owner fumbled with fitting the key into the lock for nearly a minute straight while Matt laughed at him, a gleeful and intoxicated giggle that had Foggy shoving at his chest and yelling at him to shut up like they were in college all over.

But the more Foggy laughed, the harder it was to aim the key, and as a result, the more they both laughed. After struggling to unlock the door for far longer than he should've- for pride reasons- and Matt laughing at him, Foggy handed his friend the key with an exasperated exclamation of  _"you do it, then!"_

Through the shaking shoulders, Matt took the key from Foggy, and, without turning his head away from his friend, slipped it into the lock on the first try. He turned the key smoothly and, as he was letting himself in, shot Foggy a victorious look; eyebrows raising over his shades and a small, playful smile on his lips.

Leaning his cane against the doorframe and hanging his coat on Foggy's old-fashioned coat rack, Matt proceeded into the living room. He dropped himself on the used couch near the wall and turned his head expectantly to Foggy, who had headed for the kitchen, grumbling about Matt being a fucking showoff.

Matt liked Foggy's apartment; it was much more homely than Matt's, with a poster here and there, some useless decorations, and he'd arranged his furniture with Matt's blindness in mind; everything a little spaced apart, a little minimalist, so Matt wouldn't stumble over anything. It was sweet, even if Foggy did have a hard time actually keeping the floor clean. His shoes usually sat kicked off somewhere near the couch, and he often left sweaters and hoodies laying around wherever, just like his bag. Matt didn't mind. He never tripped anyways. He simply breathed in the air that smelled like Foggy, cloth furniture, and Chinese takeout from the night before. Foggy could do with airing the apartment a little more often, maybe. Matt felt small particles of dust tickling his nose.

Foggy was still in the kitchen, and judging by the sound of glass clinking together in his hands, in the process of taking two beers out the fridge, when he asked Matt if he fancied one. Matt chuckled.

"We're gonna regret this tomorrow, aren't we."

"I'm counting on it," Foggy grinned, and tossed Matt one of the bottles. Matt's fingers slipped a little from the condensation on the glass as he nicked it from the air, and took the cap off with the coffee table.

A sip later and he was laughing.

"Foggy, did you buy  _Miller Lite_ just because of this case?"

Foggy was impressed. But he was also very proud of his  _awesome_ joke, so he just loudly replied, "Damn right I did!" And reveled in the giggle it rewarded him. "How can you tell the difference, though?" He inquired, slurring his words a little, "this shit all tastes the same."

Matt shrugged, trying to cover up his smug smile, and took a swig from his beer, like it wasn't hard.

Foggy dropped himself on the sofa next to the brunet. "You'd be a great wine taster if you weren't so busy being a damn  _superhero,_ " he sighed, but his tone was lighthearted.

Matt let out a small laugh. "I'm not a superhero, Fog. I'm a lawyer. I don't get paid for what I do in the suit."

"Well," Foggy chuckled. "By that logic, you're hardly even a lawyer."

Matt laughed loudly. "I'll drink to that."


	6. +1 - The Brenner File

Matt was sat at his desk. He was supposed to be working, but right now he was listening absently to the sounds of conversation coming from the reception room of their little office. Karen and Foggy were having lighthearted conversation. About what, Matt had no idea. He wasn't listening in, he was just letting his senses drift. He breathed in the smells of the office, the thick scent of the printer ink, Karen's light perfume, the dust that had collected over time in places they couldn't reach, Foggy's laundry detergent, the old Chinese takeout in the trash bin. He listened to the creaking of Karen's chair as she shifted to put something away into a drawer. They didn't have much, and what they did have was weighed down by debt, but it was theirs, And Matt cared about it. He really did.

But Foggy and Karen's conversation was coming to an end. Matt heard Foggy's footsteps as he slipped back into his office, chuckling softly at a final comment from Karen. Everyone was going back to work, and that included him.

Which meant preparing for a hearing. Unfortunately, he had last left the files he needed in Foggy's office, and he'd hurt his back in the mask the night before. It was simply a wrong landing, nothing too bad. But he didn't really feel like moving much with the subsequent soreness.

"Foggy?" He called out.

"Yeah?" Came the answer. Foggy didn't try raising his voice. He had stopped doing that way before he even found out the truth about Matt.

"Can you hand me that file on the Brenner case? I need to trace some facts for the hearing next week."

"Sure thing." Matt listened as Foggy put some things away, before grabbing the file and making his way over to Matt's office, leaning against the doorframe. "Here, catch."

As Foggy casually tossed Matt the file with an underhand throw, he turned his head and locked eyes with Karen, who was looking at him with a look of complete disbelief. Foggy momentarily faltered.

He knew right then he did something terribly wrong, but it took a moment to sink in just  _what_.

Karen didn't know. She  _couldn't_ know.

Matt, Foggy's eternal saviour, frowned at the command, seemingly not understanding what was happening, but Foggy knew better. It was at that moment that Foggy had never been more thankful for Matt and his creepy ability to keep up a pretense, because he wasn't even flinching as the hard plastic folder came at his face. He just sat there, for that short moment, completely unassuming.

There was a split second between Foggy realising his mistake (his huge mistake, his epically enormous, gigantic mistake), and the plastic file hitting his business partner right in the face, and that split second was filled with more regret than Foggy previously thought he was humanly capable of.

The seconds after seemed to stretch out into hours, while Foggy stood frozen to the spot, staring in horror at Karen, regretting his entire existence. And as Matt slowly brought his hand up to remove his shades and rub at his face, looking stunned, Karen stood up from her desk, chair screeching angrily. She stammered for a moment, trying to find the words for what just happened. She wordlessly motioned between Matt through the glass, where was still sitting at his desk, holding in his laughter and trying to look offended, and Foggy, who still hadn't moved and was going alarmingly red from both embarrassment and straining not to laugh.

"What the hell, Foggy?!" Was the first thing she said once she regained the ability to speak. "What  _was_  that?! Matt, are you alright?" Karen pushed past Foggy to get to Matt's side. She made a small shushing noise as she examined the little red marks on the sides of Matt's nose, from where the nose pads on his glasses had dug into it. Matt turned away from her with a contained yet slightly hysterical laugh, and a reassurance that he was totally fine, Foggy didn't mean to.

At the mention of Foggy's name, Karen turned back to him, an accusatory look in her eyes. One that screamed,  _"You did this to him!"_

What Karen didn't know was that behind her, Matt was quietly laughing, and wiping at his eyes as silent tears leaked from the corners. He gave in, gasping Karen's name.

"Karen," he wheezed. "Karen! Karen, it's okay." Cackling, he wiped away a tear. "I'm fine." Karen turned to face Matt, whose shoulders were shaking from laughter, and it was her incredulous face that set Foggy off, too, clutching his sides.

"Foggy! Y- You did  _not_ just.." Another bout of laughter stopped Matt from finishing his sentence.

"I'm so sorry!" Foggy wheezed, and approached Matt. He placed his hands on either side of Matt's face while the laughter died down. "Oh, I can't believe I did that."

Matt just rubbed at his nose some more as he grinned.

Karen looked between the two, and seemed to take that as her cue to leave. She threw her hands up with an exasperated "How do I deal with you two." before she left Matt's office, announcing she was going back to work while they touch each other's faces. At that, she threw Foggy a smile and quirked her eyebrows, which made him want to die. Matt just chuckled at him and reached for the Brenner file on the floor.

"We're gonna nail this one, Foggy."

"I know, partner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! I felt like this one was a little short, and a little anticlimactic for a final +1 maybe, but I genuinely didn't know what to add. Even so, I really hope you enjoyed this little thing, and thank you so much for reading, giving kudos, and/or leaving comments!


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